by Lynn, Janice
He sounded so self-righteous it made her defenses shoot up. “Well, apparently J.P. thinks I’d make a good co-host or he wouldn’t have asked.” She glared at him. “The more I think about it, the more I think I should agree.”
“Then stop thinking.”
“What?” He hadn’t said what she thought he’d just said. She knew he hadn’t.
“You shouldn’t take the position.”
“Why?”
He stopped, and she got the impression of a war lord pausing to strategize his attack plan. She was right. His frustration visibly melted, and he met her gaze with imploring eyes.
“Because I want you,” he growled low and seductive. “I think you want me and, if that’s the case and we embark on a personal relationship, working together would be a bad idea.”
This wasn’t a battle he’d win. Puppy dog eyes and sexy stare or not.
“Then it’s a good thing you’re wrong, because I most certainly do not want you. Not anymore,” she clarified at his questioning look.
His mouth tightened. “No?”
“I think you’re an arrogant jerk and a snob and not someone I would choose to have a personal relationship with.” Okay, so maybe that was stretching the truth, but the look on his face was worth it. “Our working together wouldn’t be a problem in that regard.”
“Oh really?” He didn’t look convinced.
“Really.”
“If you dislike me so much, it seems logical that you wouldn’t take a job where you’ll be forced to work with me on a daily basis.”
That was it. Why he’d come over. Why he’d asked her to dance. Why he’d been charming. It didn’t have a thing to do with real interest, only his desire to make sure she didn’t take the job. She lifted her foot to stomp his good toes.
No, she wouldn’t ruin her new Jimmy Choos. Not for this jerk. She’d seek revenge for his callous treatment another, more effective way.
A way that would get under his skin and burn like salt poured over a wound.
“You’re probably right, and I have already told J.P. no.” She smiled, relaxing in his hold.
His expression eased a little, but his eyes remained suspicious. With just cause. “Coming onto my show would bore you to tears. Even J.P. said so.”
“I doubt you’re that bad,” she cooed, her mind racing, plotting, planning his arrogant demise. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t use the money.
He brushed his hand up her jawline, brushed a strand of hair away from her face. His gaze held hers. “You have a way of insulting me with your compliments.”
“Compliments? Have I paid you a compliment?” Her smile didn’t falter. How much did a talk show position pay? Maybe she could pay off her credit cards and put back a rainy day fund. “Must have been a mistake if you thought I’ve paid you any flattery at all.”
“Must have.”
The song ended and she pulled away, but he caught her hand. “You still haven’t told me your name.”
“Caught that, did you?” She laced her fingers with his and in a flirty move, pressed her full length close to his hard body. A spicy blend of man and sandalwood filled her nostrils, but she refused to get side-tracked by pheromones and his heady appeal. Darn him for that during a time when she was more vulnerable to being alone.
“What do you want me to call you?” His voice sounded low, gravely, seductive.
“I don’t want you to call me,” she lied.
His gaze narrowed. “Tell me.”
“Call me whatever you like.”
“I’d like to call you by your name.”
She laughed. “Calling me your worst nightmare would be more appropriate.”
“Shit.” Frustration rang in his tone.
“My guess is that rear-end of yours is so tight you couldn’t if you tried.” She grinned. His mouth dropped open, his eyes wide with shock. Mission accomplished. With that she pulled free and took off to find J.P.
She wanted to hear more about this job.
Chapter Four
“Who is she?” Maria Rosewood Arnold asked her husband when his gaze once again went to the blonde on the Karlton Regal’s grand ballroom dance floor.
Maxwell glanced briefly in her direction, then returned his attention to Colin and his dance partner. “Jessie Davidson. The network offered her a co-host position on Colin’s show.”
Maria studied the woman more closely. Something about her seemed familiar. “She has talk show experience?”
“She’s an actress.”
“An actress?” Acid burned Maria’s throat. Had the woman slept with her husband to get the offer? “Isn’t that a little odd for a co-host for the Colin Crandall Show? I mean, Colin’s all politics and exposes.”
“Not for long. We’re changing the line-up of his show. Going to spice things up.”
“But his history with actresses? Don’t you think this is bound to stir trouble?”
Maxwell shrugged, his attention clearly more on the couple than their conversation.
“He’s agreeable to this?” She couldn’t believe Colin would be. Not nose-to-the-grindstone Colin who’d kept squeaky clean for the past two years. Actually, he’d barely made a blep on the radar screen.
Maybe he’d started drinking again.
Her own life certainly looked better after downing a few.
“Doesn’t matter if he’s agreeable.”
“Which means he’s not.” He didn’t look too disagreeable to dancing with the woman, though. Actually, Colin appeared to be enjoying himself. Which was an oddity. Colin’s trademark was his overt seriousness. The man rarely cracked a smile. As a long time Colin Crandall fan, she knew. No one told the news like Colin. At least, they hadn’t.
His career would have ended a few years ago after he was involved in an actress’ death. Not believing in his guilt, Maria insisted Wolf sign him in an airtight contract to tie him to the network. She’d been sure he’d be found innocent of the charges and the world would forgive him.
He’d been found innocent, but Colin didn’t want forgiveness. He seemed to like his two-bit early morning talk show that only stayed on the air because her father controlled Wolf. And she controlled her Daddy. She’d had her father around her finger for as long as she could remember.
Her husband was another story altogether.
She bit back a sigh. She couldn’t hold Maxwell’s attention for five minutes, much less wrap him around her finger or any other body part. Sometimes she wondered if it weren’t for the money and power that came from being married to Aaron Rosewood’s daughter if Maxwell would have married her.
Or if he’d stay married to her if not for the power.
Her gaze ran over the strong lines of her husband’s face. Gray streaked the dark black hair at his temples and the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes were more deeply embedded, but otherwise he looked exactly the same as he did on the day they’d married. The happiest day of her life.
But that had been ten years ago and a lot of things had changed with the passing of time.
Things like how her husband looked at her.
How he looked at other women, like the perky blonde.
Once upon a time, Maxwell watched her with that gleam in his eyes. That gleam that said he would possess her no matter what the consequences.
“Colin seems quite taken with her,” she said, gauging her husband’s reaction. “Perhaps she’s changed his mind.”
“I doubt it.” His gaze never left the woman, irritating Maria further. “She turned down the network’s offer.”
That surprised her. Why would the woman turn down the opportunity to work for Wolf? To work with Colin? Maxwell?
Then again, there was something to be said for playing hard to get. Colin looked more twitter-patted than Maria thought possible. Like he was drunk without the aid of alcohol.
And Maxwell, well, she hated to think of what lengths she went to in effort to get him to look at her the way he watched the blonde. These days, no ma
tter what she did, her husband ignored her more often than not.
She touched the taunt skin between her brows. The doctor promised she’d be able to move her forehead again within a few days.
Small price to pay to be almost wrinkle-free, though.
Not that Maxwell noticed her youthful appearance.
Or anything else about her.
“Would you like to dance?” The question slipped out of her mouth before she had a chance to think. Otherwise, she’d never have set herself up for disappointment.
Maxwell glanced her way before shaking his head. “You know I’m here to work. Your father expects great things from Wolf, my father expects great things from me, and I aim to deliver. You should understand how important networking is at these kind of affairs.”
Yes, she knew a lot about these kind of affairs.
Enough that when the blonde pulled away from Colin and headed toward the dessert buffet, she wasn’t surprised her husband left her to go ‘network’ in that direction.
Affair, indeed.
She turned to a passing waiter and ordered another glass of wine. Perhaps if she got drunk and danced on the table naked Maxwell would be inclined to bring her home.
* * *
J.P. dropped a chocolate-covered strawberry onto his plate and turned to head back to the table where Jill and Rob sat.
Jessie sauntered toward him, a sassy swing to her gait.
Behind her, Colin stood on the dance floor, his eyes glued to the woman walking away.
J.P. smiled. Jessie definitely made an impression. Not that he’d expected anything less. The woman was born to be a star. He’d known it when he chose her for Jane Millionaire. He’d never begrudge that Jill had taken her place, not when it meant Rob being so damn happy, but he’d longed for the excitement working with a woman like Jessie would provide. She shook things up.
Like right now and the way she was shaking her hips. Half the men in the room eyed her. Colin Crandall in particular.
J.P. smothered his laughter. Colin looked stupefied.
Jessie stepped up and plucked the strawberry off J.P.’s plate and took a bite. “Tell me about this job on the Colin Crandall Show.”
Yes. “What would you like to know?”
“What exactly would be my job?”
He didn’t need her to elaborate to know what she really asked. “You’d be Colin’s equal.” At her arched brow, he added “In every way.”
“But it’s the Colin Crandall Show.” She plopped the rest of the strawberry into her mouth and closed her eyes to savor the sweet fruit.
J.P. swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. Not that he was interested in Jessie—-Rob would kill him, but just because he was older than the hills didn’t mean he was dead below the belt.
“The network plans to rename the show. You have any ideas?”
“The Jessie Davidson Show?” Her lips twitched.
“I doubt the network will use either of your names. They want something that’s going to cause a commotion in the entertainment world.”
“Cause a commotion? I like that,” Jessie cooed.
J.P. did, too. It’s how he’d described her to Maxwell. “Perhaps I’ll pitch Causing a Commotion and see if Wolf’ll go for it.”
“You said entertainment, but Colin’s show is about politics and the like.”
He doubted she’d known that when he spoke with her earlier. She’d been fishing or Colin had tried to dissuade her. Damn fool probably didn’t realize that telling a woman like Jessie no was waving a red flag in front of a bull.
J.P. hadn’t had six wives without learning a few things.
“You’ll be able to discuss most anything you want. Entertainment, sports, fashion.”
“Really?” She looked suspicious. “I won’t have to report on wars and embezzlement and religion gone bad?”
“Not unless you want to. I’ll be brainstorming with Colin and whoever the new hostess is to come up with show ideas. Nothing’s set in stone at this point so whoever signs on would have a lot of creative input.”
Jessie pretended to be considering his words. Thanks to Colin’s attempts to discourage her she was going to take the job. J.P. suppressed his smile.
“Let’s just say I decided to change my mind and take you up on this hostessing gig, what about my wardrobe?”
“Wardrobe?” He was offering her the opportunity of a lifetime and she was worried about clothes?
“What I’ll wear each show,” she gave him a duh look, “will I have a wardrobe?”
What was he thinking? She was a woman, of course, she was worried about what she’d wear. Every woman in Hollywood was.
“You’ll have input. Lots of input.” At her Cheshire smile, he felt inclined to elaborate. “I can’t guarantee that you can keep the outfits, but I’ll see what I can do.”
“What about an assistant? My own makeup and hair artist? I’ll want to look good.”
A simple enough request. He didn’t think Maxwell would have a problem with it. “Of course you’ll have a make-up and hair artist. We want you to look spectacular. Not that you could look anything but,” he quickly added at her raised brow.
He’d learned lots about women during those six marriages.
“Even if I took the job, I’d still be auditioning for acting roles. Landing a big part is my ultimate goal. If that happens, I’ll want the freedom to pursue that goal.”
“We can work a clause into your contract that grants you freedom should you decide to leave.” J.P. upped the ante. “Think how much easier it’ll be when you make this talk show a success and every household knows your name.”
“How much does this position pay? I’m not cheap, you know,” she reminded.
“Of course not.” J.P. started to tell her the generous amount he’d been authorized to offer, but the arrival of the boss man stopped him. Especially when Maxwell smiled at Jessie, raked his gaze over her from head-to-toe and back again and named a figure double to what J.P. had been about to say. He almost whistled at the sum. Maxwell just iced the cake.
Jessie’s lids lowered and her glossy red lips parted, then turned up in a brilliant smile. A sexy-as-hell and I’m-going-to-rock-your-world smile. Not that she was one bit interested in Maxwell, but Jessie knew how to twist men around her fingers.
Speaking of Jessie’s fingers, they were straightening Maxwell’s immaculate tie. J.P. swore Maxwell puffed out his chest and sucked in his non-existent gut. The man didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. Nor did he have a wedding ring. Damn.
Involuntarily, J.P. looked up to catch Maria’s pale, angry face.
Jessie batted her long lashes at Maxwell, oblivious that venom steamed from his wife’s every pore, oblivious to the fact Maxwell was even married since the man sure wasn’t setting her straight.
“You can keep the clothes you wear on the show if you want them,” Maxwell added, sounding more like an eager kid than a high-powered executive.
“Well, if I can keep the clothes,” Jessie smiled, flashing a wink towards J.P. Damn clever girl. “Where do I sign up?”
* * *
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Colin paced across the room, not caring that Maxwell all but ignored him. “Absolutely no way is my show being turned into a circus act. I report world news, not Biker-babe Nuns who do Vegas.”
“Fine.” Maxwell shrugged. “Jessie can have your show and you can beg her for the occasional guest segment. Perhaps one on has-been talk show hosts.”
Jessie. Jessie Davidson. He’d discovered her name within seconds of her walking away from him last Friday night and the name danced in his head all weekend. As did the woman.
It irked that she’d refused to tell him. Which was exactly why she hadn’t. She liked to irk. What a woman.
Not that he liked her.
She was an actress.
One Maxwell hired to co-host Colin’s show.
Hell, no. Not while breath blew from his has-been talk show hos
t lungs.
“I’ll never do it.”
Maxwell didn’t look concerned. “Your choice, but Jessie Davidson will be on the show. Whether or not you are is entirely up to you.” Maxwell eyed him a moment, then smirked. “Well, actually as top man at the company it’s up to me, but, lucky for you, I’m feeling generous today.”
“Damn it. Just because she’s got great store-bought tits and a nice ass doesn’t mean you should put her on my show.”
“I didn’t pick her. J.P. did.”
“What does he know?”
“Enough to get a reality television show top ratings.”
“Luck.”
“Hard work.”
“By Lancaster.”
“And J.P. Jane Millionaire was his brainchild, not Rob Lancaster’s.”
Colin hmmpfed. “You don’t really believe that?”
“Yes. Although he’s had a string of bad luck over the past few years he’s doing well and earning a new wave of respect.”
“This is my show.”
“On my network.”
Colin would like to point out that it hadn’t been Maxwell’s network until he married the owner’s only daughter. The company CEO’s son marrying the company owner’s daughter. How convenient. He didn’t think pointing that out would go over well. He didn’t want to antagonize Maxwell.